


the fragile heart you protected for so long

by DSK1138



Series: Dratchet Party Sept 2020 [3]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: First Kiss, Injury, Light Angst, M/M, tending each other's wounds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:54:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26653249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DSK1138/pseuds/DSK1138
Summary: “I don’t like seeing you hurt.” Drift’s voice was barely a whisper.“And you think that I like seeing you like this? Tearing yourself apart to absolve your guilty conscience?”
Relationships: Drift | Deadlock/Ratchet
Series: Dratchet Party Sept 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1936510
Comments: 2
Kudos: 53





	the fragile heart you protected for so long

**Author's Note:**

> This is my entry for Day 5 of September 2020 Dratchet Week! The prompt was scars. I'm a sucker for characters gently tending to each other's wounds, so I went the more obvious route with this prompt.
> 
> This fic takes place after the events of Empire of Stone. The title is from this song, which is my favorite song to associate with these two: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fyiEJaf-IzE&ab_channel=JasonIsbell
> 
> Enjoy!

“You’re hurt.”

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. You’re bleeding.”

“It’s fine.”

“Stop being a stubborn aft and just let me help you!”

Ratchet’s helm whipped around. It wasn’t like Drift to raise his voice.

“I… sorry.” The swordsmech dipped his helm. “I just don’t like seeing you hurt. Please, let me help.”

Ratchet made the critical mistake of meeting those big blue optics, wide and pleading, and he cursed under his breath. Those optics would be the death of him.

“Fine. But you first. You took more hits than I did.”

Drift nodded his acceptance, knowing it was fruitless to argue further. He unclipped his swords, setting them carefully to the side, and slid into one of the few spare seats on their cramped shuttle.

Sharing such a small space had been more than a little awkward at times. They’d spent a good few weeks doing nothing but arguing. Drift was  _ glad _ to see Ratchet, he really was, but some things about the medic drove him crazy. Like how Ratchet was always moving around his crystals and throwing off the energy in a room. Oh, and Ratchet snored. Loudly.

And worst of all, he insisted on trying to  _ protect _ Drift at every turn. Even though  _ he _ wasn’t the studied warrior! He was a medic, but he insisted on taking hits for Drift, and now he was bleeding, and it was Drift’s fault for not making him stay on the shuttle…

“I don’t understand why you keep doing this,” Ratchet muttered. “Or how you survived a war, for that matter. You’re going to get yourself killed one day, jumping in headfirst like this.”

Drift must have been more injured than he thought, because he could swear he heard a waver in Ratchet’s voice.

“It’s my job. I have to keep you safe.”

“I can damn well take care of myself.”

“I know that! I just…”

Drift paused as his shoulder was snapped back into place, scarcely even wincing or seeming to notice at all.

_ How many times has this happened to him? _ Ratchet wondered.

“I don’t like seeing you hurt.” Drift’s voice was barely a whisper.

“And you think that I like seeing you like this? Tearing yourself apart to absolve your guilty conscience?”

Drift frowned. That was what had brought him out here to begin with, wasn’t it? Self exile as some sort of continued penitence for his crimes. He still felt his spark ache with that guilt every day of his life, but now, his spark ached with something else, too… something he couldn’t quite name.

They were both quiet as Ratchet finished the repairs. There was nothing that needed to be welded, thankfully, just some quick bandages aside from the dislocated shoulder. He took the opportunity to clean off Drift’s frame, which was splattered with mud and dried energon.

Ratchet’s face softened as he scrubbed away the dirt, uncovering a series of scars mapped out across Drift’s plating. He’d had an upgrade fairly recently, when he’d become an Autobot, yet he carried as many scars as he would have if he’d had the same frame for the entire war. It made Ratchet’s spark fall. How many times would Drift throw himself into situations like this, self-flagellating until he could finally consider himself absolved?

“Your turn,” the ex-Decepticon murmured, gesturing to the seat next to his.

Ratchet sat with a grunt of pain, which he tried to pass off as annoyance, but Drift’s wince at the sound indicated that he’d seen right through that lie.

“Move your servo.” But Drift was already taking hold of it before Ratchet could. Energon smeared off of it and onto Drift’s hand. The wound was still bleeding quite a bit… the protoform must have been damaged.

“I need to get deeper. Is it ok if I-?”

“Go ahead.”

Drift nodded, and proceeded to unclasp a piece of armor on Ratchet’s side, moving it out of the way so he could get a better look. It had been a lucky shot… managing to hit right between a small gap in Ratchet’s armor. It shouldn’t have happened at all, Drift still thought.

“Can I give you some painkillers?” Drift eyed the supplies in Ratchet’s open medkit.

Ratchet grunted, and for a moment Drift thought he would refuse, but then he nodded, gritting his dentae.

Drift got the painkillers prepped without saying another word. It was a series of steps that he remembered all too well… medical grade painkillers were just one step away from circuit boosters, after all. He tried not to think about it as he administered the drug.

Ratchet seemed to relax a little, which in turn comforted Drift. His motions were more steady as he brought a rag soaked in solvent to clean Ratchet’s wound.

Up close like this, he could see much more of the dents and scratches that covered Ratchet’s frame, and he was surprised by how many there were. He knew Ratchet hadn’t changed his frame much during the war, but even so, a medic shouldn’t have nearly this many wounds. Drift whispered a soft prayer under his breath, just quiet enough that Ratchet couldn’t hear him and protest what he no doubt saw as a waste of words.

Drift wasn’t the only one who had thrown himself into danger time and time again. What kind of absolution was Ratchet searching for, he wondered. Whatever it was, he hoped the medic would find it.

“I’ve seen better days,” Ratchet sighed, as if he knew what Drift was thinking.

“And you scold me for throwing myself headfirst into these situations.”

“It’s different. You still have a whole life ahead of you. I’m one servo in the scrapheap already.”

“That’s not true!” Drift tore his hands away, looking at the ground with a pained expression. “People still need you.”

“There are hundreds of medics who are just as skilled as I am, if not more.”

“I’m not talking about that! I- Primus Ratchet, I’m talking about  _ myself. I  _ need you! I need you here with me. I need you to be safe so we can go back to the  _ Lost Light _ together.”

Ratchet was rendered speechless, and for a long moment the only sound was the trembling of Drift’s armor. Then he swallowed hard.

“I’m sorry, Ratchet, I didn’t-”

Without warning, Ratchet surged forward, kissing Drift square on the lips. The swordsmech made a noise of surprise, dropping the roll of bandages, and for a moment Ratchet worried he’d misread the situation, but then Drift was wrapping his arms around Ratchet’s neck and kissing him back like he’d waited for it his whole life.

When they pulled apart, their optics met, and something burning passed between them, and then they were kissing again, and  _ oh _ Ratchet could definitely get used to this.

When they broke apart a second time, Drift gave a soft laugh.

“Maybe we should get into trouble more often, if we get to do this after.”

“Kid, I can do a lot more than just kiss you if you promise not to put yourself in unnecessary danger again.”

“Only if you promise to do the same.” Drift’s optics glowed hungrily at what Ratchet was implying.

“Deal.”

Drift smiled warmly, finals twitching. Ratchet reached up to stroke one, drawing a purr from the other mech’s engine.

“Let’s make our way to the berth. We both need sleep, doctor’s orders. I’m sure the autopilot can take care of things for a few hours.”

Drift nodded, offering a hand to Ratchet to help him up. Suddenly, he didn’t feel in such a hurry to get back to the  _ Lost Light. _ Maybe he and Ratchet could just explore for a while… there was a lot they had left to learn about each other, and Drift looked forward to uncovering all of it.


End file.
